Madsdiary ⋆˚꩜

A ditzy girl with a microblog💕 8teen ⋆ . ࿔ ˚

[ditzygirl69]

If I attempted to write a fic about Clay Barton would anyone read it? Or is this too niche?

If anyone would lmk please!!

[ditzygirl69]

If I attempted to write a fic about Clay Barton would anyone read it? Or is this too niche?

If anyone would lmk please!!

[munsonsvixen]

my ladies, clay barton.

[ditzygirl69]

My niche.

[crumbzblogz]

What am I doing with my life 😭😭

[rafeysvenicebitch]

ᗷO᙭Eᖇ!ᖇᗩᖴE ᙭ ᖴO᙭Y!ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ

🥊 ᕼOᗯ TᕼEY ᗰEET (and the tomfoolery after).

this fic contains…a reader that’s described like someone from old Hollywood, no skin color or hair type or color descriptions, no body descriptions either!! Rafe’s a little bit uh weird but so is reader tbh. Cussing. Uhh a little smut, masturbation (fem. and male). A few religious themes. That’s alll enjoy!!

a/n: I’m very excited. Uh pls tell me if this is bad so I can rewrite it. I’m kind of shy since I haven’t written smut in a while.

Now you know there’s something strangely romantic about fast-food places after ten at night. There’s no crowds, no screaming kids, no teenagers making TikToks or vaping cherry slush air.

Just silence.

And the annoying hum of the appliances in the kitchen and maybe one couple arguing by the front doors. Otherwise than that, it felt like a world for people who couldn’t sleep.

Or just didn’t want to go home.

You fell right in the middle of those two extremities. Your heels clicked on the cracked sidewalk as you crossed the Taco Bell parking lot, your reflection catching briefly on the restaurant’s windows. You stopped, fixed your hair for a second.

You looked hilariously out of place—or hilariously out of decade. You’d worn a black vintage wool swing coat cinched neatly at the waist covered the ivory satin blouse tucked into high-waisted charcoal trousers that flared just enough to skim the tops of your pointed kitten heels. Antique gold earrings swung beneath carefully done hair that framed your face. Your lipstick was a deep wine red. Winged liner sharpened your eyes into something almost feline.

You’d been compared to old Hollywood before.

That’s what caught your date’s eye. He’d called you “ethereal” before asking you for your number about three days ago. That said date lasted forty-five minutes. He’d been sweet enough. He worked at the record store downtown. He liked jazz, collected vinyls, and liked vintage fashion like you.

He’d taken you to a paint-and-sip class where he’d somehow managed to paint what looked like a possessed duck. You’d both laughed until you literally started crying.

You were turned off immediately when he started talking about cryptocurrency and how the rest of the date. Your interest packed its bags and you’d texted a friend to say something bad enough for you to leave.

So..

Greasy food it is. Watch some YouTube. Then go to bed. Perfect. You’d ordered your usual. Crunchwrap, soft taco, nacho fries, and a large Baja blast. You could resume your healthy choices tomorrow.

While waiting, your eyes wandered to the tables. There weren’t many people. A worker wiping a table down, a group of people eating, and a mom with her kid and a suitcase.

Then him. He’d occupied an entire corner table like he’d bought it himself.

Massive. That’s what you thought immediately. You couldn’t tell how tall he was but he was huge. Broad shoulders stretching an old gray hoodie. Heavy forearms and hands covered in faded and newer tattoos. He had a buzzcut. A medium large scar through his left eyebrow, it was mostly faded. Fresh brushing across his knuckles. Another yellowing bruise disappearing beneath the sleeves of his hoodie. His sweatpants looked high quality. But the way he ate, gosh. It was like a man preparing for winter in the forest. Three burritos. Two tacos. Something with chicken. Large water, a Red Bull he’d brought himself. His phone wasn’t visible. No one near him. His duffle bag on the chair across from him.

You glanced once before looking away. Your mother raised you better than to stare. You still felt it. A pair of eyes, watching.

But every time you looked up —

He’d already looked away. Interesting.

Then your order was done.

You smiled,”Thank youuuu.”

You gathered some sauce and napkins and went to the farthest table you could find which was somehow next to the man.

You settled down. Did the sign of the cross. A quick prayer.

Amen.

Then you ate one fry. Yummy. You propped your phone up against your drink and put your headphones on. It was something random you found on your feed. It was silly and comforting.

When you were about halfway through your fries, the feeling returned. Someone looking. You paused. Lifted your eyes.

Him. Staring.

You held the eye contact. No emotion between the two of you. Just two seconds of quiet and unemotional eye contact. Then you calmly returned to your food and video. You’d been told by your mother, never give strange men reactions.

That was rule number one.

By the time you’d finished your Crunchwrap. He stood. Gathered his trash and his bag. Walked past you to the trash can. You noticed a slight limp.

His hoodie brushed the edge of another chair. He didn’t look at you. That gave you the perfect amount of time to observe him better. The veins on his hand. His eye color. How defined his jaw was. And the ruby ring on your his middle finger.

About twenty minutes later, you packed everything away and tossed it in the trash.

Outside…

The air had turned cooler. You unlocked your car, about to get in. Then you saw him. He was smoking beside a black pickup truck. One hand shoved in his pocket. His hood up. He wasn’t looking at you. You kind of wished he was. Maybe he was appreciating your style.

You slipped into your car and locked the door, you locked it then put on some music. You sighed and drove off.

—

Rafe saw you drive off.

He let out a long exhale while he tossed his cigarette on the floor and put it out. You were beautiful. Unlike any woman he’d ever seen. Gosh. I mean he’d dated good looking women before, but damn you were different.

He drove home. The radio buzzing, npr. He hated npr news but he’d always find himself listening to it. It reminded him of his dad. He wasn’t on good terms with his dad. He didn’t know why he listened to it.

Once he got to his apartment, he chucked his shoes off by the shoe rack he’d set up but rarely uses. His massive golden retriever, Moose, ran up to him and placed his front paws on his shirt, Rafe crouched down and scratched behind his ears and kissed the top of his head. Moose panted, Rafe smirked a little. He got some food from the fridge specifically for Moose, poured it in his bowl and then did his water bowl. He gobbled it up immediately.

Rafe washed his hands and got his ground beef and rice out of the fridge and threw it in the microwave. His mind kept drifting to you. Your hair, your face, your clothes.

Gosh. He’d tried to think respectfully. He did at first. His mind kept wandering to not so sweet things. Not weird things. He’s not like that. He doesn’t even know you. What’s wrong with him. He shook his head and took his food out of the microwave. He cut up an avocado, and got the Berry Cherry limeade buzzball he’d been saving all week just for this Friday. He sat down in his living room. Turned on Ocean’s Eleven, he was halfway through already. He ate his food, watched tv, and then drank his buzzball in two chugs. He sighed in relief. That hit the spot alright. He’d started yawing and felt about ready to hit the hay.

Once he was in the shower. He thought. And thought. Anything other than you.

Before he went into the shower he found your instagram. Well your boutique instagram. He saw the sticker on your car when he went out to smoke. You’re very committed to the vintage thing.

He spent all his self control to not follow you. He did, but he took down your name in his mind.

“Y/n”

It felt good coming out of his mouth. Then he found your personal account. You’d posted a story. Your cat. Then your dinner, yes more food after the Taco Bell. You’d tagged your friend in a picture with a vodka bottle.

He closed his eyes, turned the water back on cold. He needs to stop. But his body said ‘No keep thinking of her’. He felt his dick throb once.

He groaned,”Fuck.”

He hit his temple with the bottom of his hand gently. He started thinking of his last match. He won. He felt good. Y/n. He found this protein drink he liked. Y/n.

His body got the better of him, his hand slipped down there. He touched his tip lightly with his thumb. He winced. It’s been so long since he’d had sex, or even touched himself. He needed to focus on boxing. Ladies were an after thought.

He stroked once, sighed. Then he kept stroking, slowly. His breathing was laborious and his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw slacked. He looked down for one second. He was egregiously hard to the point it was almost embarrassing. He rubbed his tip again and let out a moan. His mind wandered again. To you. The idea of you. Your voice, he’d heard it in a video on your boutique page with you were talking about your Vinted and depop finds. He stroked faster, his noises of pleasure becoming louder at every pass of his hand.

Gosh he felt disgusting. Literally three minutes later he spurted all over his shower wall, he’d been using his other hand to stabilize himself against the other shower wall.

He whispered to himself, ”What the hell is wrong with me.” He finished his shower and got his Clorox shower cleaner and washed the cum off feeling fully ashamed. Dried himself off, put on sleep clothes, and did his skincare which sister recommended he do.

He played with Moose before he went to bed. Well he didn’t close his eyes until he looked at your instagram again. You’d posted another story about Love Islabd and how much you hated Sincere.

He had no clue who that was. But whatever you said, at this point, he’d agree. That’s a weird thing for him. He’s never felt like this in a while. He’s been through 3 relationships since he started boxing and they’d all been the same, or that’s what he thought. He almost went red-pilled. Thank God he didn’t. But feeling like he could trust whatever someone said without knowing them fully. Yeah no that’s weird.

His eyes fluttered shut and he let sleep overcome him.

—

You’d been up all night. It was only 3 am. Your best friend Vivienne had gone home at 12 am. You’d tried to sleep but you couldn’t. So you got up to see what you had in your fridge. Your cat was asleep on his bed for once in his life. You grabbed your phone and checked some notifications. DMs from a few companies on your boutique page, friends liking your stories on your personal instagram, emails, blah blah blah bl-

Wait.

rafe.c liked your story.

You checked your notifications, maybe he followed you or your boutique page. Nothing. Huh?

You checked his page and you froze. Taco Bell guy. You’d spent twenty minutes telling Vivi about how hot he was and how big his hands were.

His profile picture was him in a gym lightroom, flexing his muscles. You smirked, gosh he looked good. He didn’t have a bio, well he had his boxing gym name and his boxing achievements put down.

—

Rafe Cameron.

Pro boxer

34–2 • 29 KOs

WBC Cruiserweight Champion

@ApexBoxingClub

—

So he’s a boxer. Professional one. Wow.

You got a Celsius out of the fridge, a horrible idea ,yes, but whatever. You sat at your kitchen island, scrolling through his page. He didn’t have much posted. Just a few pictures with trophies. The pinned post was him and his boxing club. He was smiling. That’s the only picture he had where he was smiling, well he had one other one where he was smirking because he’d won a championship. He had a picture of his dog. A picture of his family, it was a birthday post for his mom. That’s where the posts ended.

You finished your Celsius while you scrolled through your emails. But you kept thinking of Rafe. It was freeing to know his name. He didn’t post as much as you so you probably don’t know as much as he does about you. Then your phone buzzed again.

rafe.c started following you.

Well, you followed back immediately. Liked his pinned post. Then you thought. More like your brain blurted out:

‘What would it be like if he threw you on the bed and ate you out? His hands are so big and he’s strong so he wouldn’t leg you move?’

You felt heat rush to your face at the thought. You clenched your thighs together. Goodness gracious. You felt gross.

You muttered,”I don’t even know this guy. What’s wrong with me?” You shook your head and threw the can away. You went your bathroom to redo your skincare and head to bed. You dragged out rubbing in your serum and putting on your lip balm as if that would distract you. You turned on your TV, put on Jersey Shore. You weren’t paying attention because you kept looking at Rafes instagram. You put your phone down after you realized you needed to pull yourself together.

Then another thought came back. This one was was even more explicit. It was just a flash. Rafe bending you over your kitchen counter and taking you from behind. You were both sweaty and he was grunting in your ear, and you were moaning out his name, and his huge hands were tracing his back. You imagined he had more tattoos on his chest and torso. You remembered the smile he had in that picture. Fuck.

You snapped back to reality and felt how wet you were, how you clenching around nothing. You’d been so busy with work that you hadn’t had the time to even worry about being horny. You slipped your hands into your sleep shorts, just to see.

Your shorts were absolutely soaked. Wow. And you accidentally touched your clit and you let out a whine, your hips bucked once. You traced your pointer finger down to your slit, dripping wet. You slid your finger in a little. You whined again.

You reached over to your nightstand, your show absolutely forgotten now, and grabbed your g-spot vibrator. You usually used lube but this time you definitely didn’t need it.

You threw your covers off you, took off your shorts, pulled up your shirt. You spread your legs as wide as you could and started teasing your slit with the vibrator, you slid it in a little and you moaned out and your eyes closed. And all you could think of was Rafe. What he’d do to you, and how he’d do it.

You started teasing your tits with your free hand, pulling at them, squeezing the flesh. Then you put the vibrator in to the hilt and felt a sharp wave of pleasure right where you needed it, making your back arch off your bed, your toes curling. You moved it in and out continuously, causing you to get even wetter and you to moan and whine even louder.

You thought of rafe fingering you, with his long fingers. Hell, he’d probably be even better than this vibrator. Your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. It was so overstimulating. You couldn’t stay still. Your cunt kept pulsing and clenching on the vibrator, making you let out a guttural groan.

After a few minutes of the vibrator hitting your spot. You finally came. You were panting. You rolled over on your side, holding the vibrator in as you shook as you felt your pleasure.

You laid there for a few minutes before getting up to pee, wash your vibrator and your hands. You went out to check on your cat, hoping he was still asleep despite all the noise you made. He was fast asleep. You kissed his head and walked back into your room.

As soon as you got cozy under the covers you fell asleep.

—

Two days later.

Whole Foods.

Sunday morning.

You wandered straight to the bakery like a woman on a mission.

“Cinnamon Coffee cake, where art thou?” You muttered under your breath.

There it was. Only one left. You felt victorious. You out it in your basket immediately along side the strawberries, heavy cream, butter, lemons, rosemary, and the tulips you’d gotten for the boutique. Perfect. Your list was complete.

You liked shopping. It was nice to finally be in control of what you bought. Also you liked putting together outfits for running errands.

You wandered to the bread aisle. Maybe you could get cinnamon bread—

A hand came into your peripheral view. You looked at where it came from. Rafe Cameron. In broad daylight. Looking sexier than two nights ago.

Oh God. You remembered. You’d literally touched yourself to him. omigosh omigosh omigosh. You panicked and just forgot about the cinnamon bread and walked away.

—

Rafe saw you walk away. That’s when his face went redder than a tomato. Did he do something? Maybe she magically found out he’d…uh well…jerked off to the idea of you? Maybe he looked scary?

He just shook his head and went to check out.

He saw you leaving. He smiled a little at self checkout. He wondered what the tulips were for.

“Please put scanned items in the bagging area.” The monotone self checkout voice brought him back to the real world. He finished scanning his stuff and went out to the parking lot.

But of course. Your little baby blue beetle was parked around his truck. He paused. His shoulders falling as you two made eye contact. Neither of you knew what you’d both done that night. It felt like you did. Like he was watching you telepathically and you’d done the same to him. But no. It was just two awkward people who didn’t know what they signed up for.

—

Rafe had just finished sparring with one of his gym buddies. He was chewing on his mouth guard and looking through his notifications on his phone. He saw you posted something. So he checked.

It was a mirror selfie of you. In a new dress you’d found—a plum satin dress with white lace at the bottom. He noticed you had some Miss Z’s on. He closed his eyes and sighed. His last ex made him buy those for her. She was bad. She was there for sex and money. Oh and drugs back when he used to do coke and shit.

He remembered just how he’d broken up with her. She’s just finished giving him a whole sob story about how she didn’t mean to cheat on him.

—

“Rafe. I’m telling you. I swear I was drunk out of my mind. So was he. And I didn’t want kiss him!” She was crying.

Rafe looked at her. No expression in his eyes,”I’m not gonna be a fucking cuck! You knew what you’d done and you’ve done it before! Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” Sure he could’ve been nicer but he was mad.

—

That was three years ago. Three whole years without romance.

His coach leaned over his shoulder and let out a low whistle. Rafe’s thumb had kept the story frozen.

“That your girlfriend or something?”

Rafe snorted.

“Hell no. You know I’m on hiatus from women.”

“You’re blushing a little Rafe? Or is that just from sweating?”

“I’m not, coach.”

“Oh you are, Cam.”

Rafe rubbed a hand over his head and then rubbed his face.

“It ain’t like that.”

His coach raised an eyebrow, took another look. Then nodded.

“Is this the girl from Taco Bell you said prayed before she ate?”

Rafe nodded,”Yeah.”

“Makes sense why you’ve been distracted since Thursday then. You’ve been cutting weight,” he started numbering on his fingers,”staring into space, smiling randomly, you know, puppy love shit.”

Rafe stood up and shook his head holding a finger up at him,”I said it ain’t like that, coach. There’s no puppy love going on here and I’ve not been cutting weight.”

His coach shook his head and clapped him on the back,”Yeah yeah whatever get back to work.”

a/n: I hope this was good and not weird 😢

[moxleyrollins]

MONDAY NIGHT RAW | 07.06.26

[ditzygirl69]

Oh I missed dada

[stars4birdie]

I miss my dead wife.

[dolly-lina]

𝖨𝖽𝗀𝖺𝖿 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗒. 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗑𝗒𝗀𝖾𝗇.

[joenateuser]

HOMER GERE as Dylan Reid Euphoria 1.07 "Rain or Shine"

[thedeior]

deserved to have a happy ending.

[rafeysvenicebitch]

ᗷO᙭Eᖇ!ᖇᗩᖴE ᙭ ᖴO᙭Y!ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ

Some people meet the love of their life in a more graceful and poised way. Some people meet theirs at a crowded bar. Some people meet theirs at work, or college.

Well..

You meet yours at a Taco Bell, at 11 pm.

You’re all vintage glamour and old Hollywood charm—crimson lipstick, poised, thrifted clothing, and a smile that could make a grown adult weak at the knees. Rafe’s a professional boxer built like a freight train, he’s covered in scars, tattoos, and enough distrust in the world to keep everyone at arms length.

You two never spoke. Not the night at Taco Bell. Not the day after at Whole Foods. Not even when he started following your boutique’s page on instagram.

The more you two ran into each other, the more you couldn’t stop thinking of the other. That turned into something very impossible to ignore. Two people who were from very different worlds begin rethinking every assumption you’ve both ever made about love, trust, and each other.

A/n: uhh so this is like a series but not a series kinda. Blurbs r kinda hard to think of rn. But I’ll defs come up with smth!!! Enjoy

🥊 ᕼOᗯ TᕼEY ᗰEET

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Friend, Foe, or Forever?

wc: 3.7k

MDNI

warnings: gator is honestly a dick in this, gator grabs girlie forcefully, mentions of drugs, mentions of using and drug abuse, mentions of estranged parent/child relationship, girlie smacks gator, gator doesn't react (fights against Tillman instincts), mentions of death and dead bodies, mentions of guns and killing, dirty Tillmans and their dirty money and their dirty adgendas

“Rachelle - we cant keep going round and round like this!”

“She’s right, its not good for her… think of your daughter, Rachelle.”

“But I swear I’m getting clean! Mike told me he wanted me in her life - that was what he said to me in the hospital before he-”, she let out a pitiful cry out into the night.

There your mother stood on the front porch. Mamaw stood on the concrete slab with her, Papaw stood built like a statue in the door frame. Your mama had tried to push past before… they even had to threaten a protective order against her. So, there she stood - shaking from rain… possibly for other reasons, too. 

“He may have… maybe he didn’t. We weren’t there, and you weren’t supposed to be either”, your Mamaw cleared her throat trying not to dwell on the end of her sons life, “But now its been three years and you’ve been using for what… a year? We cant have that in her life, honey.”

“I am her mama.”

“No, sweet girl… you’re not”, Mamaw reached out an brushed her arm gently, “You’re the mother, but you’re no mama.”

You sat there on the top step of the farmhouse, hearing the shattered breath of the woman who birthed you. Too young… both of you - both of you were too young. Your mama only 26, and you only 9… so much pain so early in life. 

It didn’t seem fair at the time.

Small towns bring heartache on every corner as you’d see her. She would be out with her boyfriend again, and you heard rumors that they got married down at the courthouse. You wondered if she was a good wife to him… better for him than for your daddy. You wondered if she ever had another child. You wondered if she became a good mom… whatever that was. Wondered if she would tuck them in at night, like she never did for you. Wondered if she went to their ballet recitals, or their kindergarten graduation. Wondered if she did have a kid, if she would tell them about you… wondered if she she learned how to be a mama who stayed.

You would be a mama who stayed.

And the drugs slowly took her further and further.

On your sixteenth birthday, a woman approached you in the mall - handed you $16 dollars… and walked away. She was so far gone that you didn’t recognize her anymore, and you used to be the spittin’ image of her. Your Mamaw, she knew. She saw the woman. And when you didn’t react? 

She found peace.

You had found peace.

Rachelle never did.

---

You took a step backward.

He stepped forward.

In a hushed whisper, “Baby! I can explain, I was gonna start talkin’ to you about this kinda th-”

“Thats drug money? Fuckin… prostitution money? G-Guns? What-”, you took another step back.

He mirrored you. One step forward.

“Keep yer voice down, baby, lets go somewhere where we c-”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere with you!”, your voice raised into a shout and the heads began turning.

His jaw tightened, eyes locked on you. Like how a wolf locks in on the prey.

“Now, baby? There’s no reason to be raisin’ your voice…”, Gator stepped forward and grabbed the flesh of your upper arm pulling you with him around the edge of the house.

Your breath hitched at his touch. The yanking of your body pulled you tight to him, chest to chest. His fingers deepening into your skin, holding you still. Gator bent back slightly and tilted your chin upwards, eye level with him.

His left hand skimmed over the exposed skin on your waist, sending chills up your spine. Fingertips slipping just under the waistband and resting over your ass.

“Don't act all surprised now, pretty girl… you’re smart.”

“I didn’t know you were a fuckin’ dirty cop, babe! I didn’t know thats where your money came from - what Roy…”

His jaw twitched as a flash of confusion spread across his face, even just momentarily, “What about Roy?”

“He mentioned- Gator, no, were talking about you!”, You hit his chest in frustration, “And the Cartel? What the fuck? Who even are you?!”

“W-Who the fuck am I? Wow”, He shook his head in disbelief, thumb pressing into the plush of your hip, “I am exactly who I have always been to you. A provider. A protector. You wouldn’t have made it your first day out here if it wasn’t for me-”

“Think I took pretty good care of myself back there, don’t ya think?”

“Yes… yes, I do. And I’m real fuckin’ proud of you too.”

Your eyes didn’t mean to drift down to his lips, a bad habit that you never wanted to kick. The moonlight casting deep shadows over his face, but his hazel eyes couldn’t help but shine - downright refused to be muted by the night. 

He was a bad man.

A very bad man.

Everything in your mind threw red, but all you could see was him.

And all you could feel was the hands you craved upon your skin, digging into your flesh, making you whole again. All you wanted needed.

Your hands raked across his chest, grabbing tightly to his combat vest. His lips parted in a shallow pant - needing you just as bad as he begins leaning in.

But no amount of need was letting this go easily.

“Take me home.”

A dark smirk spread across his face as he whispered low into your ear, “With pleasure, babygirl.”

His hand slipped out of your jean shorts as he landed a swift smack to your ass, hitching your breath as he exhaled a laugh through his nose. Grabbing your hand, he quickly tugged you towards his cruiser.

Like he was entranced by you, his eyes couldn’t leave your body.

He opened the passenger side door for you, sliding his hand down your exposed leg and brushing his finger underneath the curve of your ass which hung out of the bottom of your shorts.

A clearing of a throat snapped the two of you out of it.

“I mean the pent up hormones must be crazy, but could you save it for when you’re actually alone? Im not into this kinda porn… well I am, but maybe not with the two of you as the stars.”

Victoria sat criss cross apple sauce in the backseat of the cruiser, pink zebra print blanket wrapping around her tightly.

“Yer our ride…”, she stared at Gator blankly, while he tried to close the door enough to hide the very obvious boner in his pants.

“Yeah… yes, you are right - let me… just…”, He motioned for you to finished crawling into the car and he shut the door gently. Rounding the front of the cruiser, you glanced back at your best friend.

“Girl, do I need to find somewhere else to stay for the night or?”

A snort made its way out before you could think, you were smarter than that.

Gator Tillman would not be getting off that easy. 

Both figuratively and literally.

But Victoria didn’t know a thing - and she wouldn’t.

Gator awkwardly dropped himself into the cruiser, glancing at you - then flashing his eyes up to Victoria, who gave him a rather smug smile.

The drive was excruciating. Every event from the night unfolding in front of you again and again. The breeze would flow through your hair and suddenly you were back in the alley of the bar holding Gator’s lipstick stained vape. A bump in the road and you felt the thud of the deputies blood soaked body dropping onto you. The wind would whistle and you could hear the breath leaving your lungs when you witnessed your boyfriend smuggling guns and drugs for the ranch - no, for the Cartel…

That and a list of every single thing he has ever given you, the huge wad of thousands worth that weighed his pocket down. How many times? 

You knew he was a killer.

And you knew that him and his father didn’t exactly do everything by the book…

You knew this.

But sitting here next to a man who believes all is forgiven? You didn’t know if you knew him anymore.

And that hurt more than anything else that happened tonight.

---

The crunching of tires over your gravel driveway scratched your thoughts, begging for you to come back to the surface of your thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t as guilty as he looked? Were you just a sucker? 

The faces of all the older women who warned you about getting mixed up with the young Tillman haunted you - you could see them in the field behind the house. Tucked behind the trees. Watching you from your bedroom window. They knew - how didn’t you realize sooner?

This was the man who hasn’t let you touch a door handle in years. The man who knew exactly where to massage you during your periods. Who answered the questions you hadn’t even asked yet. All but this one…

What did he really do for a living? Not the uniform. Not the cruiser or badge. 

What did Gator Tillman do?

The words hung itself in your mind, dangling in the midwestern wind - begging for a release, but you were scared for the answer that would inevitably come.

Victoria slipped out the back and crossed the yard with speed, not wanting to bear witness. What she thought was nothing close to what you felt, it wouldn’t be what would be taking place.

Gator shifted and looked at you to lead, knowing he wasn’t in any position to call the shots. Without looking at him, you pulled out the marked up vape and tossed it into his lap.

“Whats this?”

“You tell me.”

“My vape? You get mad at me and take it or somethin’? Shit, baby - I was trying to hit it earlier… looked for it forever.”

“Oh please, Gator. Lets skip all that shit…”

His eyebrows furrowed together as he sat up and leaned into you.

“Im not following ya, babygirl?”

“When was the last time you saw me where a shade of lipstick as god awful as that?”

“Well, first off - don’t you always wear that glittery shit?”

“Lipgloss.”

“Yeah… that.”

“Yes.”

“Okay? Then I don’t know? Why is this on there?”

“Thats what id like to know, babe.”

He didn’t like that. He wasn’t the brightest, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew your tone, he knew when he was in trouble, and he knew that he was completely clueless to what set you off this time.

“Hell if I know! Why you mouthin’ off so much tonight? Ya on your period?”

His head nearly snapped clear off with how fast your hand crossed his cheek.

“WHY IS BRYNNS LIPSTICK ON HERE, GATOR?”

Gator took a second. Then another. And another after that.

Breath. Calm down. Another breath, Gator - you aren’t him. Respect your woman. Don’t yell back. Don’t cause another fight. Take it. Just take it. Love her. Love her. Love her. Love her.

“I don't know why her lipstick would be on it, princess. I did not give it to her”, His face remained slanted sideways from the slap. He pronounced each syllable with precision, eyes narrow, jaw tight. His fingers twitching slightly wanting to touch his reddened cheek.

“So, why would she have it then?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t give it to her, like I said.”

“I have never seen you lose it before, attached to you at all times…”

“And like I said, I was looking for it in the cruiser heading to the bust because I needed a hit and couldn’t find it.”

“You expect me to believe you truly lost it?”

“I had been looking for it - I did not know where it was. What more do you want me to say?”

“I want to know why she had it.”

“Probably took it from me, for exactly this purpose too.”

“What? What do you mean?”

He finally turned his head to look at you, with zero anger in his eyes. He reeled it in.

“You’re pissed, aren’t ya? Startin’ a fight with me, after a real shitty night too… and on the back of a real shitty week. This is what she wanted.”

“How would you know?”

“Cause I used to be the same way…”

A flash of confusion spread across your face as your head tilted slightly, “Whats that supposed to mean?”

“The only reason I even started messin’ around with her in the first place is because I found out you were talking to one of my ranch hands. Pissed me off. Thought that if you were trying to sneak around with someone close to me, I’d do the same to you. Found yer client list in your office one day and saved some numbers.”

“Gator, what the fuck?!”

“I ain't saying it was good! I’m just saying I know why she did it.”

You slammed yourself back into the passenger seat, mumbling “Add this to the list of shit I am mad at you for tonight…”

“And I don’t even know why yer mad at me, honestly. Sure, you don’t like finding out shit I hadn’t told ya about yet… YET - cause I was gonna! Swear it, too. But, lets be honest here, you are the number one beneficiary of this whole thing-”

“Oh, really? And how is that?”

“Well, for starters - when is the last time you’ve seen any of the other deputies wives sporting the typa shit I give you, huh? I know you got money, baby, but we both know you save it all and spend mine…”, he gave you a smirk, “And you ain't even got the ring yet and I'm spoiling ya!”

He continued blabbering on, but all you heard was yet yet yet yet yet yet yet.

You ain't even got the ring yet.

Yet.

Ring.

You hadn’t gotten the ring yet.

Implying that there is a ring.

An you haven’t received it, yet.

“Babygirl, ya hearin’ me?”

You blinked back to the conversation.

“W-What?”

“I said that you’re so spoiled rotten that you didn’t even have the decency to thank me for the ‘I’m sorry’ gift that I sent ya.”

“What gift?”

“The purse.”

“What purse?”

“The Prada one…?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“I SENT IT TO YA THE OTHER DAY!?”

“Gator. What are you talking about?”

He reached for his phone, opening up his email, “Right here. Delivered in mailbox on 6/24 at 1:03PM.”

Your finger reached up to your chin, scratching against it slightly, “M-…. My mailbox?”

“Yes?”

He stared at you as you just sat there with a blank face.

“Didn’t you get it when you checked the mail?”

“I-”

“Oh my god. You didn’t check your mail did you?”

“YOU ALWAYS DO IT! THE SNAKES!”

“OH MY GOD, BABE.”

Gator threw the cruiser door opened and stormed out into the night. 

You clumsily stumbled out of the cruiser and squinted at him all the way at the end of the driveway by the mailbox.

Even from here you could hear him huffin’ and puffin’. Big bad wolf.

He turned and you saw the stacks of mail in his hand, literally piles - and one box. 

One motherfuckin’ box.

You began picking the cuffs of his sweatshirt, and your heels twisted in the gravel - probably tearing them up.

But you didn’t care.

“Here…”

He saw your excitement and any annoyance he wore had shed itself quickly as he handed over the box.

“And that not even a birthday present.”

You propped your foot up on the side of the cruiser for leverage as your began trying to rip the box open. Gator let out a low nasally laugh at you before snagging the knife from his vest, whipping it open with a click. 

“Watch your fingers, princess.”

He cut the box open with ease and you stood there in anticipation. 

When the tape finally released, you ripped open the tissue paper to reveal it.

Vintage Prada. Doctor bag. Rare and only made from 2005-2007. Direct from your Pinterest board. Green. Alligator skin.

“No, shut the fuck up - you didn’t!”

“I did. Alligator skin, too - figured it fit the apology. Prolly skin me if you could.”

You ignored that comment.

“I had this saved on Pinterest!”

“I know.”

“What do you mean…? How would you know?”

“I made an account and followed you. Like - years ago. But its under some weird ass name and you’ve got a shit ton of followers, so good luck finding me.”

“You’re joking, baby.”

“The hell I’m not. I already know what you’re gonna make me do next to the house!”

Your eyes widened… there was no way? You just pinned that last ni-

“You’re gonna have me tile the bathroom pink, right honey?”

Holy shit.

“I was kinda thinking that that would be an apology gift…”

“Too bad, I got you this already.”

“Well you’ve got plenty to apologize for, so its going on your list!”

“What list?”

“The ‘Gator-done’ list!” You smiled at your own fucking joke, “Get it? Like ‘get er done’? Gator? Gator-done?”

The widest smirk spread across his face, he couldn’t help it - he missed you too damn much.

“Get it? Cause you’re the one who's gonna be doing all of it?"

“I got it, baby.”

And boy, did he! The special order pink tile was already on the way and you didn’t know a damn thing.

Your attention went back to the bag, fucking gorgeous.

“This is vegan right? Fake skin?”

No.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, good. No harm to my baby gators in the name of fashion!”

Baby Gators - whew, boner was back.

You slung the bag over your arm and looked at yourself in the reflection of the blacked out cruiser window.

“God, its perfect!”

You turned to Gator, reaching for his bicep and reached to the top of your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. Which is not what he wanted, but its what he got.

“I love it.”

“That all you love?”

His eyes half lidded staring at you in the perfect moonlight. He wondered how the moon always shined on you so perfectly? Looking like a fucking angel without even trying.

“You’re reaching there, Gator bug…”

“Maybe I am…”

He hands found your hips, and he pulled you into him - the bag slung on your shoulder and the box toppling to the ground. His long fingers spanned the sides of your shorts, skimming your skin ever so slightly - enough to give you goose bumps. 

“Gator…”

“Now, baby? Is that all you love?”

His lips parted, looking down at you slightly waiting for what he wanted from you.

A sweet confession he’s been needing all week. It crippled him, he was weak, and fuck it - he needed you.

“I love… hearing the crickets?”

“No - not what I'm looking for…”

“I loveeee the moon?”

“Stop playing.”

“I love… my bed?”

“Without me in it?”

“Its more roomy that way”, you cracked a smile.

A wicked look flashed in his eyes, sending lightning straight to your core.

“Oh, yeah?”

His hands traveled around the backside of you, giving your ass a squeeze. He dipped his head to you, chasing your mouth. God, he needed you like fucking air.

“Yeah…”, you whispered, fucking milliseconds from giving in.

*Crack*

Need ya at the ranch, Hawk. Sheriffs pissed you're not here and wants ya to finish the job.

*Crack*

“Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

He released you, and grabbed the radio from the cruiser.

*Click*

You mean to tell me y’all fuckers cant handle this one?

*Click*

“Anyways, back to you before we were so rudely interrupted…”, He reached for your waist, pulling you in close.

*Crack*

Gator? 

Shit. Roy.

Get your ass here, son.

*Crack*

“Duty calls…”, you mocked. 

“Fuck.”

“I love you. I’m mad at you, but I love you.”

“I love you, baby. I’m so sorry. For this week, for the vape shit - which again, I swear I didn’t-”

“I believe you.”

“And I am sorry for tonight for what you had to do… God, baby, I never wanted this for you…”

“I am sure somewhere inside you, you knew something like this would happen…”

“Well, I got you the gun for self defense… just, had no idea you’d need it so soon. But, again, I am so fucking proud of you for tonight. You know that right?”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“But I need some time… just tomorrow, because then Sunday is my birthday and I want to see you - but I need tomorrow. Just Victoria. And I will probably go out to Ralphs and-”

“And I will steer clear… I understand. But, if you need me-”

“I’ll call.”

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe he was going to obey. Couldn’t believe he had to go to the fucking ranch, and couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to see you tomorrow. After almost a week of being on edge with you and all the shit that happened tonight, he was just gonna… leave? But a good dog obeys. And he’s been in the doghouse for nearly a week, he wouldn’t fuck this up.

“Okay… cool - good.”

He slightly shook his head, compartmentalizing this moment so he could get back to work. But his hands… his hands just couldn’t leave your skin.

“Gator bug - you need to go, right?”

“Yeah… yes. Yes, I do.”

“Go.”

“Yeah… yeah, sorry - goodnight baby…”

He released you and you picked up the box, turning in your heels to make your way up the steps. Begrudgingly, his feet turned to walk towards the drivers side of the cruiser - eyes forced to stare at the ground, he knew he couldn’t look at you. If he did, he’d stay. Get in trouble with Roy, maybe fight with you. Who fucking knows…

He was prepared for what he had to deal with at the ranch. Prepared to check on the inventory, prepared to redo the evidence paperwork from the deputies who weren’t apart of the insider knowledge, and prepared to dispose of Mannings body…. the issue… from this evening.

What he was not prepared for, was the tugging of his vest which yanked him backwards and the pulling of your hands bringing his face to yours as you kissed him. 

Suddenly, the weight on his chest, shoulders, mind… just vanished and all he felt was you.

_____

a/n 💌 okay, not gonna lie - I really really needed that break. I am so sorry! I know this one was a bit short but I hope the next few make up for it, they're gonna be fun.

taglist:

@lcversvoid @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug @eller41 @irllyluvcheezits @madaboutjoe @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @fapqueen @rubywillkins @delphinemix @michaelssassygirrrl

[drewseph]

this photo is sending me 😭

[dollyfiles]

bf!rafe snapping when someone disrespects you

cw: slight angst, explicit language, violence, toxic family patterns

"hey, cameron-tell your girl to stop looking so fuckable if she doesn't want attention."

the words hit you like a slap. for half a second, you couldn't believe what you just heard. the music kept thumping, people kept moving, but your chest started to hurt as heat flooded your face.

you immediately felt embarrassment crawling up your spine. you turned, already knowing it's some drunk asshole with nothing better to do than run his mouth. but you didn't even get a chance to say anything. rafe already went rigid beside you.

you felt it, the way his body locked up stiff. his hand, which had been resting warm and familiar at your lower back, tightened hard enough to make you suck in a breath.

your mind was racing, 'please don't, please don't, please don't.’ because you knew this version of him. you've seen it before. the one that doesn't think, doesn't stop, doesn't care.

"what the fuck did you just say?" his voice was low. it wasn't loud though, it was worse than that. controlled. dangerous. the guy laughed, clearly unaware of the line he just crossed. "relax, man. it was a compliment." rafe let go of you in an instant. and that's when your stomach dropped.

he turned slowly, deliberately, like he wanted everyone to see exactly who they shouldn't mess with. you watched his jaw flex, his nostrils flare, the familiar storm brewing behind his eyes.

it wasn't not anger, no. it was something deeper. a wave of protectiveness, possessiveness, that gnawing fear he never talks about. the fear of losing control. the fear of becoming his father. the fear of failing you.

but right now? none of that mattered.

"you don't get to talk about her," rafe snapped, stepping closer, invading the guy's space. "you don't get to think about her. and you definitely don't get to open your mouth and say shit like that."

you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. part of you wanted to grab his arm, pull him back, diffuse it. but another part of you was frozen. because he was doing this for you.

"damn," the guy scoffed, hands raised. "didn't know she needed a guard dog." at that rafe lost it. he lunged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back so hard the wall rattled. people shouted. someone gasped while you barely registered any of it.

"don't you ever call her that," rafe snarled, forearm pressing into the guy's chest. "she doesn't need to hear shit like that from losers like you. she deserves respect, you hear me? and you clearly weren't raised with that."

your chest ached. you knew rafe's breathing pattern by now, the way his shoulders rise and fall when he's trying not to explode completely. you stepped forward, hands trembling, gripping his bicep.

"rafe," you said softly, your voice barely there. he didn't look at you at first. he couldn't. if he did, he might stop. "you think you can talk to her like that and walk away?" he continued, voice shaking with rage. "you think there aren't consequences?"

the guy's face went completely pale. "i didn't mean-" rafe slamed him, harder. "intent doesn't mean shit." you flinched at that, heart in your throat. this was the part that scared you. the part where rafe forgets the room, forgets himself, forgets everything except the threat in front of him.

you squeezed his arm harder, grounding him the only way you know how. "rafe." you mumbled again, your grip on his arm tightening. and this time, he hears you.

his head turned just slightly, eyes flicking to yours, and he shifted immediately. the rage didn't disappear, but it calms. you see it all in his expression. the fear of scaring you, the guilt already creeping in, the overwhelming need to keep you safe even from himself.

he leaned back into the guy one last time, voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "you ever talk to her again, i will fucking ruin you. do you understand me?" the guy nodded frantically before rafe shoved him away like he was nothing.

and suddenly all the tension in the room disappeared. rafe turned fully to you now, hands hovering like he was afraid to touch you without permission. his eyes searched your face.

"are you okay, baby?" he asked, breathless. you nod your head, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "yes, im okay." his face crumpled for half a second, not sure if you were telling the truth.

"i'm sorry," he said quietly. "i shouldn't have-" you cut him off by stepping into him, pressing your forehead to his chest. his heart was pounding like it was trying to escape.

"don't," you murmured. "you didn't do anything wrong."his arms came around you slowly, carefully, afraid you'll disappear if he didn't hold you right now. he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, grounding himself in you.

"i can't stand it," he admitted under his breath. "the idea of anyone thinking they can treat you like that. it makes me fucking sick." you laced your fingers into his, steaduying both of you. "i know."

he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. a stark contrast to the rafe he was just a few minutes ago. "ill always protect you," he promised you. "even from the worst parts of myself."

tags: @maverist @sugaredbambi @inspiredangel @rafekisser @lacyydollette @barrysluv @coastalcowgirly

[akiaa-angel]

Shh, Shut up.ᐟ

୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕

୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕

Summary: You got bored while your girlfriend is working.

CW: Suggestive, bitting, make out, tie pulling, hickeys, risky make out, work place.

Proof reader: @skittlesfoe

୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕

The walls of Family Video were lined with shelves and shelves of movies. You were sitting on the counter while Robin was taking a phone call. 

Bored out of your mind, your eyes wander to your girlfriend’s hand holding the telephone. You impatiently wait for her to finish the call, after she puts the telephone down into the receiver she notices your eyes on her. “Do you need something?” She went towards you. “Do you have any movies we can watch?” You asked innocently. Robin looks around the store for something you both haven’t watched yet. Weekly movie night has been a tradition ever since Robin started working at Family Video.

“We can maybe check the back, I think we’ve seen every movie”. She laughs, motioning you to come with her. Robin opens the door to the storage room filled with boxes. “What are you in the mood for, gorgeous?”. You sit up on the table looking around. “A romcom would be nice.”. Robin smiles, pulling out a box of movies going next to you. “Here! Let’s look for something we can watch”. 

Your eyes watch as Robin pulls movie after movie on the table to rent for later. She’s always been good with her hands. “You’re staring, are you okay?”. Robin asked, concerned. “No, uh, just thinking…”. She goes in between your legs, rubbing your thigh. “You seem distracted today, are you sure you’re alright?” She pressed concern laced in her voice.

“I’m fine, Robin.”. You play with her hair tugging her closer, she leans in and you take the opportunity to kiss her. Something light and sweet, until she pulled away to sort the box, your fingers threading around the tie she was wearing and tugging it forward. A surprised Robin met your half lidded eyes. “Babe, not here..”. The way your finger curled into her hair and the hand tie pulling her made her quite quick. “Come on, baby”. You pushed her vest off, making a sound as it hit the floor because of the abundance of pins on it.

Both her hands and yours scramble to unbutton the rest of Robin's uniform leaving her in her black bra, jeans and of course that tie. Robin pants breathlessly. “Are you going to leave the tie..?”. She asked, confused. “Yeah, it looks…good on you”.

You pause before you and her start to giggle, kissing her again. Her hand pulls you closer by your waist as she kisses down your neck. “Is this what you’ve been thinking of?” She hums sucking the valley between your breast. “Robin…”. You gasp out gripping her hair. Your eyes shut, sighing softly.

Everything was going well, Robin’s hands halfway removing your top until she was called by her coworker Steve. “Robin, where are you?”. Your eyes lock with her before you both scramble to get dressed as you try to stifle your laughs.

Now fully dressed she tugs you back to the front of the store. “Robin I have been looking for…you, where have you been?” Steve raises an eyebrow at both your disheveled state. Robin’s crooked tie, messy hair, and your top buttons being open.

୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕──˚˖﹒୧୨﹒˖˚──﹕𝜗𝜚﹕

[berzattoobear]

YES they have to be this close together at all times or else they will DIE

[rafesdaydream]

im not even joking anymore 🥲

[ditzygirl69]